


out of the clear blue sky

by AmiLu



Series: 12 Months Challenge [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Crack, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmiLu/pseuds/AmiLu
Summary: Noah sighs and drags a hand over his face, massaging his closed eyes, then opens them. He rereads the thread once again and debates with himself whether he should answer. He can’t even connect with his own kid, so what makes him the ideal person to help another father with his?





	out of the clear blue sky

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a thing. I hope I didn't mess up both canons too much, lmao. (Also rated M just in case.)
> 
> Fills the 'Heat' square of my genprompt_bingo card; the 'm/m' theme for 12months_challenge and the 'crack' prompt of my 100 fandoms table challenge.

> How to ask my daughter [17F] about her life and not have her shut me out.
> 
> I’m livinig with my only daughter after years of living alone after her mother decided to remarry. I’m 42[M] and was never very good at talking about emotions, and neither is she. I’m worried about her. At the beginning it looked like she had settled in ok, but now she’s out with her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s family all the time and doesn’t speak with her old friends anymore. To make matters worse, that whole family left her for months and she was depressed and I worried for her life, and then they came back just when she started to heal. I don’t know what to do, and she won’t talk to me. I fear she’s getting into something shady even though I can’t prove anything.
> 
> Any of you have any suggestions?

 

Noah blinks and rereads the whole thing.

It sounds terribly familiar, in a sense. Stiles may not be a girl and he may not be dating any of the people he’s hanging out with (though Noah has his doubts, even if he doesn’t like thinking about it too much), but the group he’s with now is… Noah doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts to say more than that they’re trouble. He _knows_ they are trouble. Since Laura Hale’s murder (an animal attack, _his ass_ ) and Derek Hale’s appearance in town, things have gotten shady and complicated. Not to mention the number of disappearances, kidnappings and plain murder cases that have popped up all around Beacon Hills. And the worst thing is that, even though it doesn’t make any kind of sense at all, Stiles and his group seem to be at the very heart of things. Every single time. Noah is tired of being called into a scene and finding either his boy or one of his ‘friends’ right there, some times simply snooping, but more often than not being deeply involved in one way or another.

And the secrets.

He’s tried (oh, how he’s tried) to get Stiles talking, to let him help because he can _see_ him struggling, he can _see_ the bags under his eyes and the way he jumps at shadows, but Stiles keeps lying to him and Noah—

He can’t take it.

He knows he’s not being fair; he knows he’s not the best father out there and that he might be judging them too quickly, but if Stiles doesn’t even try to make him understand—

Noah sighs and drags a hand over his face, massaging his closed eyes, then opens them. He rereads the thread once again and debates with himself whether he should answer. He can’t even connect with his own kid, so what makes him the ideal person to help another father with his?

There’s a loud crash on the second floor and then Stiles’ stomping down the stairs. Noah turns towards the noise, but his son doesn’t even look at him. Stiles runs towards the door in a flail of limbs and the only recognition he gives that he knows Noah is home is a shouted “Gotta go, dad, bye!” before the front door closes with a bang.

Noah tips his head down in defeat, heart heavy. Looking back at the screen, he realizes that he’s already made a decision. He might not be able to give helpful advice, but at least he can offer a metaphorical ear and shoulder to worry on. Maybe this other father may even return the gesture.

He cracks his knuckles, sighs, and starts writing.

* * *

 

A first message turns to two, to three, to ten. Before long they’ve exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers and names. Both of them are flabbergasted when they discover they have even more things in common: they are both sheriffs of their little town’s police forces. However, while their family situations at present are frighteningly similar, there are some slight differences that make the thing a little less… weird. For once, Bella’s (Charlie’s daughter) mother is not dead, not like Claudia, and while Noah had to raise Stiles alone since his wife’s death, Charlie has only had Bella for a year, thereabouts. Their kids’ personalities are completely different, too, even if they do share the clumsiness, though after reading about the details of some of Bella’s accidents Noah believes that his kid has it easier, even with the ADHD and his bouts of hyperactivity.

They start by talking and ranting about their kids and their problems, but soon their conversations broaden until some days they go through whole convos without mentioning their kids even once. True, neither of them is what they call talkative or communicative people, so their conversations aren’t that long or wordy or deep, but it’s more than what they talk with other people outside of work and, occasionally, family.

And, of course, Stiles notices.

“So,” he says one morning, making the sound long and teasing in a way that makes Noah narrow his eyes, suspicious and wary. “Who is it? Do I know her? How long have you been dating? Why haven’t you told me? Dad, I’m hurt.”

Noah blinks twice and tries to make sense of the barrage of questions. Nope. They still don’t make sense.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, though he’s not sure he wants to know.

It’s Stiles’ turn to narrow his eyes, calculating. He crosses his arms over his graphic t-shirt and huffs. “Oh, no, we’re not playing this game. You can’t fool me.”

Noah can feel a headache coming. His phone vibrates with Charlie’s answer and he’s about to check it when Stiles grabs the cell, taking it right out of his hand.

“Charlie, huh?” Stiles says after checking, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that reminds Noah of Claudia. “She pretty? Why haven’t you mentioned her before? Ah-ah. Don’t try to deny it. You’ve been texting for weeks, and we know you don’t _do_ that! Don’t think I didn’t notice, mister!”

And suddenly he gets it. Noah groans and lets his head fall on his hands, then chuckles. Stiles thinks Noah’s _dating_. Stiles thinks Noah’s dating _Charlie_. Noah. Dating. Charlie.

He cracks up.

“What’s so funny?!” his son asks in a high, outraged voice, and Noah laughs harder. He can’t help it, it’s hilarious. “Dad!”

Still laughing, Noah takes back his cell and walks out of the room, with Stiles following right at his heels.

“Dad. Dad, where are you going? Dad. Dad!”

Hiccuping, Noah dries off a tear that had escaped in his mirth and, after putting on his cap and adjusting his belt and gun holster, he opens the front door.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” he says, ignoring Stiles’ incredulous face. “See you later, son.”

“THIS IS SO NOT OVER!” Stiles bellows from behind the closed door, and Noah fights hard to not lose it again.

Dating. Charlie.

Him.

What a laugh.

* * *

 

[19:23] CharlieS: she’s getting married

[20:01] NStilinski: what

[20:01] NStilinski: when?

[20:03] CharlieS: soon. It doesn’t make sense. Why marriage? she’s too young!

[20:04] NStilinksi: did they even talk to you about it before

[20:05] CharlieS: no. yes. i’m not sure, honestly. I mean, Bella kind of hinted at it? But I didn’t think… look at what happened with me and Renée? I dont want her to maks the same mistakes I did.

[20:07] NStilinski: want a beer?

[20:10] CharlieS: please.

* * *

The sun wakes him way too early. His head hurts like blazes as it hasn’t in months (since he stopped drinking as heavily as he was doing when he didn’t have anyone to talk to) and he’s hot and sticky and uncomfortable. He squints at the unfamiliar ceiling as he tries to remember what happened the night before that made him drink so much, but he can’t quite grasp it. His heavy blanket sighs and moves, and suddenly he remembers. Flashes of a quick drive, a worried face, drinks and chatter and more drinks. A tipsy comment, a touch. A heavy glance, a heated kiss—

Oh, God. He remembers now. He took the weekend off and drove to Washington. To _Washington!_ He met with Charlie in a bar in Port Angeles. It was a bit awkward at first, as they hadn’t met in person before then, but then the alcohol came and Charlie spoke and Noah listened. He listened as the man vented and talked about his worries, then offered his thoughts, and they drank, drank, drank. They stopped talking about their kids and their messes, and started sharing stories and jokes and glances. He remembers thinking Charlie was hot, and then _telling_ him so, without shame, without filters.

Noah groans, embarrassed, and tries to stop the surge of memories, but they keep coming.

Kissing, touching, paying at the counter with a heavy tip; going outside, flagging down a cab. At least they made it to Noah’s hotel room before they went any further. Then skin—so much bare skin. Mouths. Heat.

“You think too loud,” Charlie rasps from his spot on Noah’s naked chest. He doesn’t move except to nuzzle him a bit, which Noah should not find as cute as he does. “Regrettin’ already?”

Noah thinks about it for a moment, but— “Not a bit,” he says, honestly. “Can’t say I was expecting it, but...”

“Mmm. I kinda was.”

That’s surprising. “Really?”

Charlie chuckles and the vibrations make Noah’s body wake up and take an interest. “Yeah. You’ve been… Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Are you mad?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just—” He laughs, a bit incredulous. “I just realized Stiles was right. We’ve been dating long distance for months.”

“Huh,” Charlie says, pushing up onto his elbows, just enough to look at Noah in the eyes. Noah studies him: his eyes, his nose, his lips. His beard. He wants to feel that beard all over his body again. He shivers. “That’s—actually true. I never noticed.”

“Me neither.”

“… Want to do something about it?” Charlie asks after a moment of silent contemplation, one eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips turned upwards.

Noah’s breathless, but manages a “Yes, please,” before he’s being thoroughly kissed.

 

The End.

 

((SOMETIME LATER:

“Stiles, son,” Noah starts, then closes his mouth. He presses his lips tightly together as he thinks, fighting the small urge to shift his weight in the way he knows shows he’s uncomfortable.

Stiles frowns, attention suddenly focused completely on him, eyes worried. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

Noah takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, squaring his shoulders and pinning Stiles down with serious eyes. “I need you to be honest with me,” he says. And there is it, the guilt. The worry. “I need to know. Are you… dating a vampire?”

_“...What.”))_


End file.
